Bleak future for U.S. draft dodgers
(By
JOSEPH MARSHALL)
Phe Vietnam war is officially over. Ihe prisoners arc all salclv home, and the last American combat troops have been withdrawn from the giant United States bases in South \ ictnam.
But for an estimated 32,000 Americans, the misery and uncertainty go on. They are the G.l.s who deserted in the face of a conflict they could not believe in. and a cause they could not support.
In Sweden, Britain, Germany, France, Canada, and hidden in America itself, the lost army of the Vietnam war is today waiting, and hoping that the government will be generous in defeat, offering them the amnesty they ask. Until it does, each one of
them is counted under American law as a felon, and faces imprisonment for 10 years. It didn't wash Meanwhile. until the United States Government softens its present hard line towards the deserters and draft-dodgers, they must make what life they can in foreign countries far away from families and friends. Take the case of Doug Tiberis. Five years ago, he found his draft card in the morning mail at his home in Newport, Arkansas. He did everything he could to avoid his term of conscription—eating soapflakes and silver-foil, pretending to be blind, deaf, and illiterate, and even swearing that he was homosexual. It didn’t wash, and the Little Rock draft board classified him Al, and fit for immediate service abroad in Vietnam. But Doug Tiberis didn't report to the induction centre as ordered. He drew his savings out of the bank and spent $4OO on a one-way ticket to Canada. Extremely bitter Today, he lives in a Montreal slum—part of the 10,000-strong army of deserters and draft-dodgers who fled to Canada to avoid Uncle Sam’s insistent call to the Indo-China war. Like most of his colleagues, Tiberis is extremely bitter. He can find little work in Montreal, where unemployment is already high. Back home in Newport, his
family have been chased out of their home by vigilantes of the American Legion—the United States returned servicemen’s association. His family have since moved house to Cincinatti. but Tiberis cannot go to see them. The moment he sets foot on American soil he will be arrested and charged with draft evasion and "international flight." Both these offences carry a penalty of five years in gaol, though Tiberis believes he committed no crime. Cultural nho<‘k But at least Tiberis. and the other 10,000 in Canada, can settle into a society not so far removed from the life they left behind, even though the majority of the Americans who have fled the war find themselves at the bottom of the social heap The 500 deserters who have taken up residence in Sweden, for instance, find t'u. going tougher all the way along the line; the authorities have been anxious to do nothing that might cause offence in the United States. Neil Stimson (that's the name he chooses to give) is now 30. He has been in Sweden for four years, and is married to a Swedish girl. But in all that time he has been unable to learn more than the basics of Swedish, and is still suffering from the cultural shock of transferring from the United States to Sweden’s social democracy. “In Sweden,” he says, "the priorities are different, and even the television is foreign.” Double life Vietnam absconders in Germany are also in a precarious situation, particularly since a recent Munich court case, in which a judge ordered the deportation of a coloured deserter even though he was married to a German girl. Stimson, Tiberis, and most of the other deserters desperately want to go home But what are their chances? At least most of them will never be forcibly repatriated unless they’re in hiding in Germany and Britain, where leading a double life is an extremely frustrating and tiring business. Take Doug Ashford, who is in a rented flat in Victoria in the heart of London. To his neighbours, he is “that nice American boy who makes guitars.” But to the British police and the immigration authorities, he is a wanted man. Under a long-standing agreement between the United Kingdom government and the United States, Amen can deserters can be arrested on British soil and extradited to the United States to face charges. Some have already been caught and others, like Ashford, move house every six months or so to keep one jump ahead of the police. “No forgiveiirgn*’ He cannot take full-time work, because he has no work permit and, without one, he cannot get a National Insurance card, which any prospective employer wants to see. He can’t even join a dole queue, because he dare not admit to the authorities that he is in the country. With an estimated 1000 other Vietnam deserters, Ashford hopes that President Nixon will relent now that the war is over, and declare an amnesty. But the chances would seem to be poor. Speaking in Washington recently, the American President told an audience of returned servicemen: “We cannot provide forgiveness.” The few who have already tried to return have been arrested as soon as they stepped off the plane, and taken before the courts. For the lost legion of the Vietnam conflict, the future holds little hjjpe.
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Bibliographic details
Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33253, 16 June 1973, Page 11
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880Bleak future for U.S. draft dodgers Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33253, 16 June 1973, Page 11
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